


Just Add Water

by Catsitta



Series: Assorted Oneshots [15]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bittiebone(s) (Undertale), Burglary, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mafia Mers, Mermaids, Mild Language, Minor Injuries, Mobfell Sans (Undertale), Mobswap Sans (Undertale), Mobtale Sans (Undertale), POV Second Person, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Secrets, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsitta/pseuds/Catsitta
Summary: Instructions not clear. Floor now covered in thumbtacks.Bittiebones | Mafia Mers | Oneshot
Series: Assorted Oneshots [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1413808
Comments: 10
Kudos: 93





	Just Add Water

**Author's Note:**

> I had the urge to write yesterday but the muse wouldn't sit still. Then hansama hit me with this lovely [piece of artwork](https://catsitta.tumblr.com/post/638055519919210496/hansama-gift-drawing-for-the-very-lovely-kind) and BAM next thing I knew, I'd written over 5k words for a fic I didn't even have an idea to make until after noon. But that is how it is sometimes.
> 
> Some very minor references for my fic Sleepin' with the Fishes.

In a whirlwind of hugs and kisses and apologies for being unable to stay, your aunt swept through your new home like a human hurricane and left a box in her wake. A housewarming gift, she called it, before unloading a couple more gift bags by the front door. “Don’t be a stranger!” she said. “Call me later and tell me how much you loooooove my prezzies. Byyyyye darling. Kisses! Smooches. Love you.” And then she was gone in a flash of floral skirts. She was the only person you’d ever seen who could leave the house wearing yellow from her sunhat to her shoes and somehow look like a movie star instead of a walking banana. Eccentric was putting it lightly.

But you loved her and despite her quirks, she was a comforting, albeit infrequent presence in your life. Always cheering you on in your ventures, though never quite approving of your homebody nature. It was hardly a surprise. While you spent your teens and early twenties going to school, paying off debt and saving up money for a downpayment on a house. She saw the world. Boarding school in Paris. A gap year touring Europe. Studying acting in New York. Falling in love in Chicago. Moving from state-to-state in pursuit of her dreams to be on stage until one day, she had her big break on Broadway. Your life in comparison was plain. Stable. Boring even. 

You preferred it that way. 

Even if it was a little lonely.

With a sigh and shrug, you kicked the door shut and investigated the box your aunt left on the kitchen counter. It was colorful with a beachy print and tied shut with a giant red bow. What confused you were the little holes in the cardboard. Had one of her cats chewed on the lid? Untangling the ribbon, you discovered a little card with the words ‘Just add water~’ scribbled within it in large, expressive cursive. She always talked about how your windows looked so sad without flower boxes. Maybe this was a plant she hoped you’d manage to keep alive longer than a month. Chuckling at her heavy-handed antics—admitting to yourself you were quite lucky she hadn’t tricked you into a dinner date with a mysterious stranger that was just your type—you opened the box. 

And blinked.

The content of the box blinked back.

You dropped the lid.

Oh. Oh your aunt was so dead when you saw her next. So. So dead. She ran off that quick for a reason. Before you could fish out your phone to ream her, a tiny hand pushed the lid up and three sets of eyelights peered over the edge. Bittiebones. Three of them. Were in your house. Dropped unceremoniously in your life, uninvited, and they were staring at you. The one that opened the box shoved the lid aside and propped his arms on the edge, his smile lazy, his eyelights white. He looked like a Sansy type, except his attire was all wrong, as he was clad in a shirtsleeves and vest instead of the cozy hoodies and sweaters that kind preferred. But you wouldn’t put it above your aunt to dress the bitties up nice and formal for the ‘special occasion’.

“sup pal,” he greeted, his voice soft but surprisingly deep for a mini-monster the size of a cigarette box. “you our new human? the loud lady mentioned ya. said you’se was a real nice kid. but ah, you don’t look like a kid~” He winked. Oh good grief. Of course your aunt would manage to find a flirty bittie and think it was just adorable and perfect for you. 

One of his ‘friends’ scoffed. The blue-eyed one. He was barely peeking over the edge, his cyan eyelights huge and terribly distracting. Like will o’ wisps from faerie myths. Not a word spoken and you were pretty sure he hated you. Which was bizarre since Baby Blues were supposed to be sweet and needy and helpful, not moody. 

The third one, with red eyelights and a gleaming gold tooth that put you on edge since both Cherry’s and Edgy’s had reputations that involved biting. He didn’t snarl and snap at you, nor did he shrink and cower under your gaze, instead he elbowed the maybe-Sansy and leaned against the edge of the box beside him, “heya dollface, a real pleasure finally meetin’ yer. we heard all about’cha on the way here.”

“if ya don’t mind, it’s been a long day. we’d love a chance to _stretch_ our legs,” the first said, sprawling against the third, snickering when he was promptly shoved off. They exchanged looks that were all smiles and spite. Great. Apparently you were lucky they didn’t all murder each other in the box. What was your aunt thinking?! In the name of preventing possible maiming, you gently extracted each from the box like they were kittens. The maybe Sansy and Cherry didn’t react and let you scruff them by the back of their clothes and place them by the sink. The baby blue? He bit you. 

“Frickin’ fudgenoodles that hurts!” you cried. “Hurts. That hurts. Let go. Let go. LET GO!” Tiny fangs released your hand and he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his little gloved hand. He hissed then had the audacity to smirk, adjusting his bowtie and suspenders before clambering out of the box himself. A matched set of fashionable ‘gentlemen’ plucked right out of a mobster movie. All they needed were hats and tiny tommy guns. “Stay,” you commanded before retreating to the bathroom to attend your injury and call your aunt. Of course, she didn’t answer. After leaving an aggravated voicemail and nursing your wound, you returned to the kitchen to find the bitties whispering between themselves. 

You drew in a deep breath and approached, “Hey guys. Look. This was a big misunderstanding. As soon as I can get my aunt to pick up the phone, you’re going back to wherever you came from.” Which was probably some fancy bittie boutique. They were a special, designer pet with a similar composition to their larger, monster counterparts. The main difference being that they were small and engineered to quickly bond with their owners. Like a parrot but worse. Bonded bitties had a bad habit of dusting when their owners died and while there were reports that some could survive in the wild like a feral cat, they were generally classified as owner dependent, their survival skills nonexistent. 

“woah, woah, hey there, let’s not be hasty,” the maybe-Sansy pleaded. “hows abouts we try gettin’ to know each other before there’s any rash decisions yeah?” The baby blue muttered something and earned a withering glare from the first. Surprisingly, he ducked his head and stared at the counter, placated for time being. “now, you can call me karma for now, until ya warm up enough to give us names~” That was part of the bonding process. Naming the bitties. While it was common for the bitties themselves to adopt nicknames to differentiate themselves from others of their same type, they didn’t have real ‘names’ until they had ‘owners’. Which was rather...bothersome...when you considered how smart they were.

Karma motioned his thumb at the red-eyed bittie, “this fella here you can call price. or cherry.” Price growled. “second one gets him all riled up. aint that hilarious?” He pointed at the last of the three, “this kiddo here is blue—”

“I AM NOT BLUE! THAT MAKES ME SOUND LIKE I AM ONE OF THOSE MISERABLE BABY BLUES THAT SPEND ALL THEIR TIME BEING SAD AND CRYING ABOUT HOW THEY DON’T HAVE A HUMAN!” He whirled on you. “If you must address me, call me The Great and Magnificent Striker.” He crossed his arms childishly. “And I’m not a kid.”

“don’t mind him. his big boy teeth finally came in and so he’s in a bite of a phase. likes challengin’ authority and nipping fins.” Striker shrieked and tackled Karma and the pair tumbled briefly, before Karma quickly ended the skirmish by pinning him with magic and sitting on him. “ya can get up when you’re willin’ to behave.” Striker flailed and screeched while both you and Price watched on. 

He pinched his browbones and shook his head, like he was used to this, “he really aint a bad kid. just... a little troubled. he’ll mellow out in time when he knows things are safe and stable and he don’t need to be the tough guy no more.”

You grimaced and rubbed your temples before seeking out the gift bags. They were full of bittie supplies, “Look, I didn’t sign up for this.” The prices were peeled off but maybe you’d find a receipt and figure out where they came from so you could return them to the store yourself if need be. “You’re going back. And if my aunt won’t return my calls, I’ll...I’ll take you guys to a local shelter or something.” They accepted bitties, right? Not that it would be terribly common for them to end up at one since they were expensive pets and didn’t deal with abandonment well given the whole dying when they lost their bonded owner. “You’ll go home with somebody who actually wants you.”

There was a long, foreboding silence.

“what if we don’t wanna go?” Price asked, his voice a little harder and strained. 

“Look, you’ll be happier anywhere else. I’m always working. I can’t keep a damn plant alive because I forget to water it. And let’s not forget what your little friend there did. I’m really, really not fond of being bit, and you guys appear to be a set of three.” Bitties didn’t just bond to their owners, but each other. Bonded pairs, be they siblings or mates or close friends, weren’t supposed to be separated. “So...sorry, I guess.”

You found no signs of what shop they were from and given how adamant at least two of them were about staying, you probably weren’t going to get an answer from them. Maybe your best friend Google would have an answer. You could look up and call the local bittie shops and see if they were purchased nearby.

Suddenly, Price was at your feet, clambering onto one of the boxes of bittie supplies, smile too wide, sweat beading down his skull, “give us a chance, dollface. look at it this way. There’s three of us, so we can keep each other entertained while yer workin’. and we’re not plants so we can tell yer when we need waterin’ and stuff. and...and...this place is all huge and empty. plenty o’ room. don’t even need to see us if yer don’t wanna! we can be real quiet.” Hesitation must have been evident on your face because he took that opportunity to launch himself at your arm (you were still kneeling among the gift bags) and clamber up to your shoulder, “a chance. please. yer won’t regret it.”

Goddammit you were weak for that sad voice and those puppy dog eyes. 

“Fine. One chance.”

.

The rest of the day went as smoothly as it could with three unwelcome guests. In the bags were basic care supplies, including changes of clothes and magic supplements to add to food to make it edible for bitties. You were puzzling through a care manual when there was a knock at the door. A delivery. From your Aunt. REALLY? There was a fragile sticker slapped over the front of the biggest box and after unpacking it, you discovered a glass aquarium and the makings for an elaborate fish tank, with soil and plants and stones and a heater. Great. But you bit your lip this time and your frustration faded. You mentioned to her a while ago how once you got your new house, you wanted to set up a planted tank. This one was big enough to give you plenty of artistic freedom, but not so big that it would be a chore to clean. And, the plus side of planted tanks was the fact that it was a lot harder to forget to water plants that literally lived in water. 

You caught three sets of eyes watching curiously from a doorway.

With a sigh, you motioned them over, “Wanna help me set up an aquarium?”

They proved surprisingly helpful. Striker, despite being a loud-mouth with a biting habit, seemed to enjoy trying to one up Price in everything. Being the first to grab something. Being able to lift something heavier or find something faster. As they squabbled, Karma watched on, seemingly content to flip through the book on planted tanks you had open on the floor. He could read and had a voice that traveled well, cutting through the bickering with ease. By the time you finished arranging the plants and rocks to look nice (there were a lot of flat stones and even a chunky one that looked like a cave) and filled the tank with water, night had fallen. 

“Huh. Look at the time. Should eat then get ready for bed. Long day in the morning.” You were all gathered in the kitchen already, the tank situated on the counter since you didn’t exactly have a stand for it and the idea of leaving it on the living room floor made your insides squirm a little. Cleaning up the mess made from setting up the tank took longer than expected, but hey, you weren’t about to complain. Not when you were already brimming with anticipation of what would happen. “How do you guys feel about, uh…” Ohhhhh shoot. You were supposed to go shopping. You pulled a box of Cheerios from the pantry, “Cereal for dinner?”

Price and Karma shrugged, but Striker pulled a face, “UHG. HUMAN KIBBLE. DO YOU NOT HAVE ANY FRESH FOOD IN THIS PLACE?” You eyed him. 

“Like what? I probably have eggs and maybe some deli ham.”

“Fish!”

You snorted, “Sorry bud, no fish. Don’t eat it. When I go shopping, I’ll pick some up I guess, but for tonight—”

“FINE! I’LL JUST STARVE THEN!”

“oh boy,” Karma sighed as Striker stormed off, vanishing into the mostly empty depths of the house. As a singleton with basically no furniture and far more space to yourself than you’d ever had in your life, there was plenty of room for the tiny guy to get some much desired distance. “just make him a bowl and leave it out. he’ll eat. think he jus’ got his hopes and expectations a lil too high.”

“What do you mean?”

Price fidgeted, “let’s just say he’s young and aint had the same reality checks as the rest of us. cereal is fine, dollface.”

.

After the cereal fiasco came another hiccup. 

“Shoo. Out. I am not showering with you two in here,” you said, jabbing a finger at the bathroom door. Price wilted and Karma tucked his hands into his trouser pockets.

“it’s called conservin’ water,'' Karma argued with a waggle of his brows. At your flat look he snickered. “mercy, darlin’, have mercy on us _bone _heads. can ya blame us for wonderin’ _water_ ya doin’?”__

__“that was just bad,” Price deadpanned. “we should _shower_ some respect and skedaddle.”_ _

__The pair of them snorted, the antagonism from earlier replaced with an almost friendly camaraderie. Which, you supposed made sense if they were a bonded trio. Just because they were soul brothers or whatever, didn’t mean they didn’t get on each other's nerves and fight. They gave a long, lingering look at the tub before scurrying off. Maybe they wanted a bath and didn’t know how to ask for one from you? Urrrg. A problem for tomorrow you to solve._ _

__Once you were rinsed off and clad in pajamas, you padded your way to bed, skin prickling from the coolness of the room. Sleep was a welcome salvation. Kicking aside a lump of laundry closer to the hamper, you face planted on the sheets and groaned in relief. Sleep. Sweet, wonderful sleep. A quick check to make sure your phone was charging and your alarm was on, and then you buried yourself in blanketed blisses._ _

__And couldn’t settle._ _

__You shifted. Tossing and turning. The stress of the day chasing away true relaxation. Great. Juuuust great. After about an hour of flopping about like a fish, you peeked at your phone and decided to read for a bit in hopes that a distraction was all your busy mind needed. You were a few chapters deep into an—ahem—fantasy novel about a dragon prince who could turn into a human and his misadventures through time. The author’s fixation on his ripping muscles and the voluptuous bust of the book’s love interest totally had nothing to do with why you were so enamored…_ _

__“hey dollface, can’t sleep?” A strangled screech escaped you. Oh dear god, it was just Price. How did he get on the bed and why? He had changed into an adorable oversized sweater for bedtime and was shuffling his feet shyly. “neither can i. mind if i, uh, stay here wit yer?” You still weren’t sure exactly what kind of bittie he was, but from what you knew of what you _thought_ he was, his type were known for being needy. Despite every denial, they wanted nothing more than to sleep on their owner’s chest at night like an orphaned kitten._ _

__“I will squish you. I flail like an octopus in my sleep.”_ _

__“s’okay. i’ll be fine. tougher than i look, sweets.”_ _

__Common sense said no. You were trying not to get attached since there was a good chance this wouldn’t work out and you didn’t need them bonded to you. But basic human empathy won out. With a long suffering sigh, you flopped on your back and patted your chest. Price’s eyelights morphed momentarily into stars and he scurried into place. “Watch yourself,” you warned when he got a little too familiar with your cleavage._ _

__“but it’s warmer here,” he argued. “sides...i can hear yer soulbeat.” A dreamy look passed on his face before he forced it back into a scowl. Was he pouting? “don’t tell the others i said that.”_ _

__“Ruin your tough guy image?” you drawled. “Buddy, I’m afraid the bitey brat has a leg up on you in that department.”_ _

__He grumbled something against your collarbone before curling up. You watched him rest for a while, before laying aside your phone and closing your eyes. Sleep came shortly thereafter._ _

__._ _

__“Okay, who the hell took a swim in the aquarium while I was at work?”_ _

__Waking up with a bittie on your chest and spying another one sleeping propped up against the bedroom door had been an odd experience. As was finding the left out cereal eaten while Striker remained on his, well, strike, and out of sight. But nothing quite compared to coming home from a long day of work, dragging yourself though the grocery store, only to find an utter mess in the kitchen. There was water all over the counter and none of the boys were fessing up to the act._ _

__“Whatever. Just...don’t do it again, I guess? Especially once the plants grow enough that I can put fish in there.” There was calculated interest on Karma’s little face and you realized what you said. There was an implication in them that you’d let them stay long term. You swallowed the urge to correct the mispeak, and instead unpacked the groceries. “Fresh fish is expensive, but I picked up some salmon that was on sale, as well as a couple alternatives. Canned tuna—bleh—and frozen tilapia. Think chompers will eat it?”_ _

__“the salmon, definitely,” Karma said. Him and Price looked a little dazed at the mention of fish. Apparently all three had an appetite for it. Goodie. “as long as it’s thawed and has a dash o’ that magic powder on it, it’s perfect.”_ _

__“Really. Raw fish?”_ _

__“Mmmm.” Price was positively drooling._ _

__“One, gross. Two, guess that saves me the trouble of having to cook the stuff and stink up the whole house.”_ _

__Half an hour later and the pair were happily munching on salmon and a certain little terror crept his way into the kitchen. You were cooking up your own dinner and caught movement at the corner of your eye. Striker and you stared at each other for half a second before you turned your back on him completely, feigning ignoring his presence so he could creep his way to his dinner like the feral cat he liked to embody. By the time you served up some stir fried veggies and rice onto a plate, Striker was settled contentedly with the others on the counter, every crumb of fish gone, his smile a little more genuine._ _

__._ _

__Slowly, a routine was cobbled together over the next few days. Aside from a couple loud squabbles that mostly involved Striker and one of the others getting into a brief physical altercation, life with the trio was reasonably peaceful. Price was the touchiest out of the lot by far. He found his way onto your chest or pillow every night, and would sit on your shoulder when you were on your computer or phone. Karma was more distant, obviously a little more prepared for the other shoe to drop and for you to change your mind about keeping them. He joked quite a bit, and you discovered his sense of humor could get...dark. Despite how calm the both of them were, there were moments where they seemed...dangerous. Which was rather silly. They fit in your hand and hadn’t shown any aggressive behavior in your direction, and even the more violent strains of bitties usually didn’t do worse than bite and swear._ _

__Then there was Striker, who you weren’t quite sure didn’t have some kind of mood condition. Because while he was prone to anger and moodiness, there were moments, small ones, where that more typical ‘baby blue’ behavior peeked through. You caught him laughing once, eyelights stars. He was just so excited. Of course when you figured out that he was watching a horror movie and cheering on the serial killer, well…_ _

__You worried for your eyeballs and teeth for a while._ _

__But aside from a sharp comment said with a cheery smile here and there, he didn’t do anything hostile._ _

__“kid’s just playin’ head games witcha,” Karma assured you. “you’re bigger than him. you could dust him with your bare hands and he knows it.”_ _

__“So it’s some kind of freaky test?”_ _

__“bingo.”_ _

__“Yeesh. Well. Game or not. It’s creepy.”_ _

__“eh, just means he likes ya. he wouldn’t be testin’ your patience like this if he didn’t at least want to trust ya.”_ _

__“What about you?”_ _

__“hm?”_ _

__“You don’t trust me. M’not blind.”_ _

__Karma gave his too wide smile, “should i, pal? only been a couple day since you’se talked ‘bout ditchin’ us. sure we’ll make the _cut_?” He motioned a slice across his neck and walked off with a chuckle. Honestly, what was your aunt thinking with these three?_ _

__

__._ _

__

__“shoo.”_ _

__“Are you really shooing me out of my own bathroom?”_ _

__“decency, blah, blah. we know how the tub works.”_ _

__“Bittiebones can’t swim. What if you make the water too deep? You could all drown!”_ _

__The three of them looked at each other and began to cackle with laughter._ _

__“dontcha worry, dollface.”_ _

__“we’ll be fine.”_ _

__“NOW SCRAM!”_ _

__

__._ _

__

__Two weeks passed in a blur and despite your reservations, it was nice to come home to the trio. You hadn’t named any of them nor had they pressed the issue. Not that they seemed like the type to start calling you Mama one day and insist on traveling with you everywhere._ _

__However, one day, something was off. You pushed open the front door, groceries in hand, and expected to see one of your boys by the door. Instead you were met with an absolutely trashed house. What little furniture you had was tipped over and there was a mess. It looked like...oh god! Were you robbed! Was the burglar still here?! You dropped your groceries and whipped out your phone, ready to dial the police when you heard it. A strangled masculine yelp._ _

__“YOU LITTLE FUCKERS ARE PSYCHOS!”_ _

___“911 what is your emergency?”_ _ _

__“...I think I’m being robbed and the intruder is in my house,” you began, before giving over your address. Common sense, who you had been at odds with since the boys came into your life, was once more put on the back burner as you went further into the house, searching for the trio. There was a thud and more screaming._ _

__“YOU SHOULD CONSIDER YOURSELF FORTUNATE, YOU VILLIAN, THAT I AM ALLOWING YOU TO KEEP YOUR EYES. I BET THEY’D POP REAL NICE BETWEEN MY TEETH.”_ _

__There was a sputter of curses and a CRACK that sounded terribly close to a tiny, skeletal body hitting a wall. No more threats from Striker came. No. Nono. You looked around desperately and found your umbrella flung into the middle of the floor. Arming yourself, you pushed yourself into the bedroom, ready to raise hell. And...FUDGENOODLES! Why was the floor covered in thumbtacks? You didn’t even remember owning thumbtacks. Nor did you recall inviting a certain black-clad intruder into your home. He was male, probably had at least six inches of height and at fifty pounds on you. No contest, you’d lose to him in a brawl._ _

__But here he was flailing on the floor like a beached fish, covered in thumb tacks with a gift bag on his head, as Karma Mc Stabby harassed him with a sewing needle. Again. Where did he find it? Sure, you knew in theory that you owned a sewing kit, most people did, but you’d never used it because you were kinda incompetant at sewing. By his feet was Price, who had commandeered your extra long charging cable and tangled up the intruders legs. When you stepped in, his blazing hellfire red eyelights fixed on your face and his smile took on that false, nonchalance Karma preferred, “hey dollface, we got any zipties around?”_ _

__When you shook your head he grunted, “shame.”_ _

__Then it struck you. Striker._ _

__“yer should get outta here,” Price warned. “s’not safe.”_ _

__“Who the fuck are you maniacs talking to?” shouted the intruder. The boys ignored him. So did you. There were more important things. And your eyes settled on his limp form within seconds. Thumbtacks kicked aside best you could manage, you scooped him up and fled the room, hating that you left the other two behind, but police were on their way._ _

__“Wake up,” you pleaded. He didn’t stir, mana seeping from cracked bones. He was too pliant in your hands. Striker never let himself be held. Aware that there wasn’t much you could do, you retreated from the house, Striker against your chest, umbrella in hand, and waited for the police outside. Overwhelmed with anxiety, you hardly noticed emergency services’ arrival or them dragging away the wannabe burglar that trashed your house. You didn’t snap back into reality really, until one of the officers arrived at your side with the other two boys, a little ruffled but otherwise safe and sound. They scrambled onto your shoulders._ _

__After filing a report and laughing a little nervously about having guard bitties, you were allowed back inside. You trembled. Striker was still unmoving in your arms. Your house was a wreck._ _

__“he’ll be fine, darlin’. he’s scrappy,” Karma murmured. “just get him in the bath and keep his head above the water.”_ _

__Trusting the bittie, you tiptoed through the mess until you reached the bathroom. You turned on the sink and ran the water until it warmed, then let it fill the bowl. When it was deep enough, you peeled off Striker’s tiny, mana sodden clothes and dipped him in the water. Price was quick to your side with a washcloth. What you didn’t expect, while gently rubbing his bones clean, was for there to be a glow. You watched in morbid fascination as his legs seemed to meld together as vivid ectoflesh covered his bones from hips to toe tips, the energy seeming to flood from beneath his ribs. Soon, little legs were replaced with a fluked tail like that of a porpoise._ _

__Striker wasn’t a baby blue bittie at all._ _

__You blinked and thought about the beachy themed box. The note. The fishtank. The fact that the boys bathed by themselves. The liking for raw fish._ _

__“You’re all merbitties, aren’t you?”_ _

__They slowly nodded._ _

__Just add water. Really. That coy little message was supposed to be a hint all this time that these three were merbitties?! They were relatively new on the market, with the most common knowledge about them being a highly social nature, and the fact they were never to be adopted out alone. They formed groups like dolphin pods that were often jokingly called mafia’s since they were clever, tricky and highly territorial. As in, gang up on and attack an intruder kind of territorial._ _

__“Why keep it a secret?”_ _

___“Because it was funny how clueless you were.”_ _ _

__“Striker!”_ _

__“Errrrg. Be quiet, human, my head hurts.”_ _

__“Thank god you’re okay.” Tears crept down your cheeks. “Thank god you’re all okay.”_ _

__

__._ _

__

__Clean up was slow._ _

__You didn’t feel like calling your family yet. They’d worry and start talking about how you shouldn’t be living all alone. Hell, maybe they were right. Because when you went to take your bath, you found being by yourself in there was unsettling. Maybe…You wandered into the kitchen where Striker was using the aquarium as a recovery tank and the other two were bickering as they always did, off to the side._ _

__“Y-you three need a bath.”_ _

__There was surprisingly no protest when you gathered them all up, even the fishy finned Striker, and took them into the bathroom. Unsurprisingly, with their secret out, they had little care about whether you saw them bareboned and were quite happy to be placed into the water. Striker was recovering fast after his meal and splashed about in the tub freely, and soon, there were two more mini mers swimming with him. Price had a vivid crimson shark tail, and Karma had the fishiest fins of the lot, though you couldn’t place the flowy fins on any particular species._ _

__“gonna join us, dollface,” Price asked._ _

__“NOT LIKE WE CARE ABOUT YOUR WEIRD, FLESHY HUMAN BODY.”_ _

__And perhaps it was a touch odd. But you were stressed and tired and the water was warm. When you gently submerged yourself with them, you felt...safe. Like they would protect you._ _

__“Um, hey, do...you guys mind if I give you names? Or would you rather me keep calling you by what you’ve been calling yourselves?”_ _

__Price perked up but it was Striker who spoke first, “DEPENDS ON THE WORTHINESS OF THE NAME. STRIKER IS A RATHER MAGNIFICENT MONIKER SUITING A MER LIKE MYSELF.”_ _

__“As you say...Dolphin.” Striker—Dolphin?—flushed cyan and sputtered. You couldn’t tell if that was acceptance or if you’d broken him. “They’re cheeky and squeaky, just like you.” The other two snickered and you set your sights on Karma. “Dunno if you should be laughing so much...Stabby.” He stroked his skull and shrugged._ _

__“straight to the _point_ i see.”_ _

__“Well you are rather _cut_ throat,” you quipped in return. Price had swum up to your side by then and was fluttering nonexistent eyelashes. “Yes, I remembered you too Cassanova.” He grinned and clambered up your arm, happy to use you like a basking stone. Despite your better judgement, you had no plans of ever letting them go._ _

__._ _

__“Darling, it’s been forever since I have seen my favorite little niece. How are you settling in? Do you like my housewarming gift?”_ _

__You gave your aunt a flat look, “It’s been a month. And I called you. Repeatedly.”_ _

__“Pish. Details, details. Oh, there they are! Hello little ones. Remember me?” she breezed through the door and knelt. Casanova grinned and kissed her extended hand. “Charming as always. Tell me, you three taking care of my precious niece as promised?”_ _

__Stabby ambled to stand beside Cassanova, “we aint the sort to break our promises.”_ _

__You hummed, acknowledging that yes, they did protect you from a burglar and yes you accepted them. But since then, the wariness dissolved and the little hellions were unleashing their prankster nature. Apparently turning the floor into thumbtacks was Stabby’s favorite hobby, and Price really couldn’t be trusted with those zipties you bought him. At least Dolphin hadn’t bitten you again._ _

__Your aunt beamed and hugged you._ _

__“I just knew they would be the perfect fit.”_ _

__“Yeah...you were right.”_ _

__Your house was decidedly chaotic. And...well...You couldn’t imagine it any other way._ _

**Author's Note:**

> -FIN-


End file.
